Star Wars: Neeyos Rebellion
by JoeyJr133
Summary: The Battle of Yavin has failed. Luke Skywalker has been killed and the rebels are scurrying away as the Empire weed them out. Meanwhile, a Sullustan from Corusant is planning something that will change the universe.
1. Death Sticks

36 BBY, a Sullustan is born in the slums of the first level of Corusant. Sure, it was deemed uninhabitable but that didn't stop people from living there.. Poverty and squalor was the usual. Natural light is an urban legend told amongst children who don't know better. Among those children is one Albee Neeyo born and raised to a single mother. He was very slim and had a small head for his race. His ears were short and rounded along with his eyes were significantly smaller than that of his peers. He would be considered very strange from an outsiders perspective but down there, weird looking people were all around. Children with one eye. People with no hair. Missing limbs, extra fingers.

23 BBY. Death sticks. Very true to the name. They were in glass vials and gave immediate euphoric effects to whoever took them. They ruined lives, destroyed families and wrecked homes. They were flavoured and glowed neon thanks to all the toxic chemicals poured inside. Some people took the liquids out of puddles and vialed the contents. People were desperate and would often use whatever they could get their hands on. All the good stuff got shipped from the upper levels where all the sophistos hung out, that the people from these levels couldn't contact..

Albee was among these people that could escape this depressing world via these glowing vials of heaven. They were expensive but paid off. 16 hours of non stop eternal bliss just for you. Or maybe it was just a slow way for people to kill themselves; digesting toxins that would make you feel good on your departure from the cruel society.

Albee stood behind an alley, leant against a wall waiting for his daily delivery. A Quarren who never let him down. He got a fake batch in the past and the experience almost killed him. After that, he needed a reliable dealer and who other than a friend from infancy?

While there were many different races and cultures all tangled up where ever they lived, all had to learn how to speak Galactic Standard. Even though neighborhoods were largely species divided, with shops to accommodate for needs of specific races, all official events did not. The other good thing about everyone learning Standard was it meant that all species and races could communicate freely. Albee took interest in learning Standard, wanting to hopefully leave this dreaded place and being someone important, like a senator... Wishful thinking.

"Albee!" The Quarren exclaimed, late by several minutes.

"Hey... You covering me?"

"Not today.. But-"

"I'm not doing this. I can wait a day f-"

"Bare with me. You know those mercs on the upper levels? Well, I got word that they are leaving a huge batch of your stuff unguarded on the second level in a warehouse."

"I'm not going to the second level."

"Hear me out. We'll split the batch half and half. You take half for you and I'll the the rest and boost it myself. Shame losing my best customer but.. Making dues, eh?" He chuckled

"What if it is guarded? Then, they wipe you off the map. They'll have you removed from photos."

"But, I have this." The Quarren took a shodilly made blaster pistol out of a bag. It was ready to fall apart couldn't be shot any more than twice by the looks of it.

"Its gonna explode."

"Pshh. What are you talking about? It'll last me my whole life."

"If I die, I get to take all your money."

"Deal."

Albee and The Quarren began walking to a transport station -an elevator that could take you between levels, for a fee-. Nobody from the first level had actually used one before as even on the second level, you were treated as below a person. Which is why the level divide only increased over time with no sign of stopping.

The transport station made a rough whining sound as it went upwards, likely from its lack of use. It was deafening.

"I could use some sticks right about now!" Albee exclaimed over the whining noise, in hopes of lightening the mood. It was always depressing and melancholy around so humour was a must at the lower levels.

"Trust me, you'll have all the death sticks your body desires. Give me time."

They made their way to the second level and were immediately blown away. It was a lot more lively and bussling. Bright neon signs covered the whole street and sent them back. It was still very shoddy but more they were ever used to. It almost brought tears to their eyes.

"Let's just... Get the sticks and..." They kept staring at the signs, absolutely changed by all the lights and colors.

"Yeah..."


	2. Connection

After recovering from the visual overload they were exposed to, they began walking to another alley. The quarren hadn't even gave directions yet but they just knew. That alley reminded them of Level 1 so something like death sticks would have to have been stashed there.

"Wait, if you die, won't you not be able to not take my money as you'll already be dead?"

"Eh, we'll cross that bridge when we get to it."

"But... The warehouse should be at the next r-"

As they turned the corner, the alley expanded into multiple warehouses that sprawled up and down for what looked like a mile on either end. But one caught their attention. It was the only one that was guarded by two thugs in knock-off mandalorian armor and DH-17s. Quite formidable, especially from a child's perspective.

"Take a wild guess as to which one we need to get into?"

"Hey, how do you know about this in the first place?"

"Hey, don't bite the hand that feeds."

"You're not feedin- shut up."

The two crawled to an opposing alley that bordered the storage house they desired. It was surprisingly stealthy considering and they really did feel important. Maybe like Jedi or something.

"I think there is a vent up there. Your small head should fit just fine."

"Shut up!"

"Quiet. Now, let me boost you up."

The quarren put his gloved hands out and Albee jumped atop. He was lifted to where he could just about climb onto some scaffolding then, if he was lucky, actually get to the vent.

"So, what am I looking for?"

"Its a big crate. Durasteel. Hard to miss."

"Okay. Thanks."

The jump was going to be tough and sullustans weren't exactly known for their acrobatic prowess so this was definitely a challenge. Albee made a leap of faith and barely caught a hold of the wet scaffolding and managed to pull himself up, but not without making a lot of noise in the process.

"What was that?" A thug could be overheard from around the corner.

"Probably a muskrat. Wanna go do some target practice?"

"I'm not leaving this door. Last time, I saw a fine girl so I went up to her and worked my magic. Long story short, some kids got off with a big old crate of death sticks and I had the pleasure of cleaning out a muskrat den."

"When was that?"

"Yesterday."

"Well, I'm not letting somebody steal any more cargo. See you in five."

In that time, Albee managed to scurry into the vent, barely squeezing in. At the same time, one thug was making his way around the corner to check on that noise. Standing there was a suspicious looking quarren boy who belonged in Level 1.

"Scram! You hoodlum!" The thug trained his gun at the quarren, who immediately took off down the alley. He remembered he was holding his bag the entire time and went behind what could only be described as a floating dumpster. He pulled his shoddy blaster pistol out of the bag and aimed at the thug. He pulled the shot off but only barely grazed the thugs shoulder. His barrel was already overheated and would need a minute to cool off. The thug took cover behind an opposing floating dumpster and the second thug joined him in his cover.

"What's going on?"

"Some quarren kid was up to something. He made one off on my shoulder."

"He's dead now."

The thugs both leapt from cover and opened fire on the dumpster. This was too much for the quarren to handle. What did he get himself into? He peeked from cover and fired a second time; this time with dire consequences. The gun combusted on the spot and sent the boy flying backwards, into a wall. The thugs saw this and walked over to the downed boy. One opened fire as the other was unsure of what to do, but after seeing his friend fire, he did the same, blasting the boy till his barrel was red hot.

"Oh my..." One thug dropped his weapon and looked at what he had done. The sight wasn't glamorous by any means. He had been eviscerated by the fire and could only barely be made out as anything other than a paste worse than prison food.

Albee heard the fire but was too terrified to turn around. He couldn't make out any of the conversation but something about this wasn't right. Suddenly, he was sent on a 90° plummet to another air duct, which he went straight through, landing with a thud on the cold, hard floor of the warehouse. It wasn't a pleasent experience but he knew it would be worth it in the end. The warehouse was full of large, durasteel crates, most indistinguishable from the next. But one caught his eye. He felt connected to one piece of cargo. It was in the corner of a room and, rather than a large container, only about two feet long. He had his obligations to addictions and whatnot, but something told him that he should check out that piece of cargo first. So, his mind getting the better of him, Albee climbed the jungle of containers and the skyscrapers of cargo to that crate which was conveniently located on the top of all the other cargo. That had to mean something, right? After a rigorous climb, he made his way to the wooden crate. He felt a sense of victory. Pride. Accomplishment. Something he hasn't felt in a while...

The crate had no lock but the top was firmly sealed around the base of the crate so opening it was going to be a challenge. So, what better to do than to drop it? It made sense in Albee's juvenile mind. He was at least 20 feet in the air so a drop like that should split it like nothing.

He chucked the crate down to the bottom and, rather noiselessly, the crate cracked open so Albee hopped down after it to figure out what it was. At the bottom was a strange piece of metal with various indentations and markings. It was like the barrel to a blaster cannon although, it was hard to imagine it that way. His first thoughts were to sell the piece of scrap metal but then, _something_ told him that that was a bad idea. He was drawn to it. Connected to it. Like it was a part of him. Like it was family. So he pocketed it and began scowering the warehouse for death sticks. He didn't want to make his friend wait too long but he had to get them.

It was no use. Maybe someone stole them before he did... That would have sucked.

Albee climbed back up the vent he came from and dropped down the the floor of the outside alley, tumbling to the far side where his quarren buddy was posed. He rubbed his head and looked at his friend, not realizing his state until several second later. Instantly, he ran over to the squid soup posed against the wall. He wanted to ask what had happened but he already had a solid idea of what went on. There was nothing he could do but run away from the scene and back to the transport station, which was only a two minute walk away. He bolted out of the alley and into the again bustling street, getting several profanities hurled his way in the process, and over to the transport station where he collapsed to the floor, now fully realizing the implications of what has happened. One: There were no more death sticks coming his way. Two: His only real friend had just been liquidated. Three: He had a family that Albee will now have to explain the situation to. This was going to be rough..


	3. Contract

19 BBY. The Clone Wars was on the brink of ending. The sky was lit up like fireworks from the Battle of Coruscant that took place. The last thing Albee saw was a ship coming down from somewhere far off but he was happy knowing it wouldn't be him that was going to die.

Albee lept from scaffolding to scaffolding on the buildings, cars racing by below him and a drop all the way to Level 1 when he got there. It took several more hops and jumps until he had made it to where he needed to go. A targets apartment. It was an open balcony on the corner of a made it easy to get to. Albee took his lightsaber from his hide and began walking into the room that followed. Inside, there was an empty bed and the room was trashed, but someone could be heard from the room just down. He sounded like he was playing a game with friends, or possibly listening to a broadcast. Albee stepped into the room, as if he was never there, and ignited his lightsaber. It gave off a warm red glow that made Albee feel comforted and a very loud screeching sound as it turned on, which still sent chills up Albee's body even after 4 years of using it.

The man was on a chair but, after the lightsaber had been ignited, he fell back and immediately ran to a corner, a buzz knife drawn and a terrified look slewn across his face.

"A lot of people want you dead."

"Who sent you?"

"Client confidentiality."

"Okay, that doesn't matter. How much are they paying you? I'll double it!"

"Well, looks like you are getting offed because you couldn't pay debts, so you don't seem very reliable. But thats just me... If you can tell me why I should let you live, I might take it into consideration." Albee said, with a smug look on his face.

"Bec-.." The man was terrified. Too terrified to make a coherent sentence.

"Tounge tied? Let me help you loosen up."

Albee struck the man down with one heavy strike. He was proficient with Shii-Cho, Shien and Niman -he trained with the books he managed to buy or steal- for basic lightsaber combat, deflecting blaster shots and taking down common thugs, respectively.

Albee deignited the lightsaber and began searching the drawers for any valuables. After nearly an hour of rummaging around, he found what was around 2000 credits worth of valuables, jewelry, act.

As he was about to leave, a door slid open and a human female made her way inside, presumably looking for the man. She herself looked ready for romance, scantily clad and cleavage pushed upwards. She walled into the bedroom and layed down, not seeing Albee who was about to climb away. He looked at her and had to decide whether to kill her or not. She was a threat and a liability. But was it really necessary. He took out his personal buzz knife and ignited it. Albee walked back into the room and, before she could scream, Albee stabbed her in the head. She twitched slightly before coming still. There was no blood as the heat from the knife cauterized the sound involuntarily. Albee looked at the scene and smiled. This truly was his peak. Stabbing women in the head with hot knives.

He walked away, not sure if he was proud of himself or disgusted by his actions. Anyways, his job was complete and his paycheck incoming. That was all he needed to worry about...


	4. Solus Zabrak

18 BBY. About time Albee managed to crawl his way to the upper levels. He had made quite a name for himself in the underworld as the 'Sith Assassin'. Not that he assassinated sith, but rather his force abilities along with the red lightsaber he carried around didn't help. He had just about learned the basics of the force. Levitation, force choke, pull, the likes. But, he was fascinated with the lightsaber. It was a work of art, a masterpiece in his hand, a tool of destruction and order; it was magnificent. The red glow gave warmth and made him feel at home. The grin felt so comfortable in his hand. Each slash and stroke was delicate yet brutish. With every waking hour, if he was not doing jobs or boosting death sticks, he was training with his lightsaber, putting every word of the books he owned under a microscope. His apartment had become a library without any shelves. In his eyes, it was beautiful. To an outsiders eye, however, he looked mad, plus his habitual death stick use didn't help. It was slowly draining away at his soul and the midichlorians inside of him. He felt weaker each day but wanted to die if he didn't take them. It was a never-ending cycle.

Albee had just finished his fix of death sticks for the night and was prepared to rest when loud footsteps marched from behind his door, then a loud banging followed.

"Its Solus! Open up."

It was Solus. A fellow sullustan who looked a lot more normal than Albee. Solus had larger features and was built rather tankishly. But, his demeanor shattered that image at first glance. His voice was high pitched, his back slumped and eyes darting as if he were a cat trying to keep himself from the temptation of chasing a laser that was darting across the room.

"The doors unlocked."

Solus opened the door and noticed the empty death stick vials that were skewn across the floor. Albee himself didn't look much better, his eyes had grayed out and his skin went from its usual tan to a sickly green yet somehow managed to be pale at the same time. You wouldn't think he was a moderately wealthy assassin proficient in the ways of the force. He looked more like a hobo. Solus stepped over the glass vials and towards Albee, who had books about lightsaber combat spread all around him as if he was a castle and the literature his walls.

"We really have to get you off of this crap, don't we?"

"You try living in the filthiest corner of the galaxy! You try telling the parents of your best friend that their son had been killed after he got caught pedaling drugs! Do you know how it feels to have insults hurled at you because you were born on a disgusting plot of land, rather than the slightly less disgusting plot right beside it?"

Solus had his SE-14C trained at Albee's head in case he became violent. The situation was getting bad. Solus was both an informant and muscle, when he could straighten his back and pretend to be tough for five minutes. Outbursts like what just happened weren't exactly common with Albee, so Solus didn't know what to expect with him; other than at that distance, Albee could have sliced off his arm and called it a day, possibly chucking him down to the underworld, head first.

"Come on..." Solus sat down next to Albee, after moving half of his book fort, hoping to be comforting. "I know you didn't have it good, but please keep that anger stored for the guys we have to take down. Speaking of which."

Solus placed a piece of paper on Albee's lap. It was a list of information about a gang leader who controlled majority of levels 3 and 4. He was a good business owner but heartless and tyrannical, not that it mattered to Albee. He inspected it carefully, making sure he didn't get any details incorrect. He did that one time and it cost him.

"Gang leader... Zabrak... Wait, what about a lightsaber?" Albee saw that it clearly mentioned this zabrak wielded a lightsaber, but mentioned nothing about force proficiency of his level of training so he should have had the upper hand. Knock-off lightsabers were increasingly more common these days. Albee wasn't sure as to why they exploded in popularity, but it had something to do with things fallling form the sky, or so he heard.

"It's a match made in heaven. Plus, 15,000 credits for the job."

The number convinced Albee immediately. "So, what leads do we have?"

"He owns a nightclub on a mid-level."

"And?"

"That's about it..."

"What?!"

"You do have to work for those 15,000 credits, you know. I suggest we start at the nightclub."

"Did you figure that one out in your own, detective?"

"You really can be a jerk sometimes."

"Yknow, its not like there is a shortage of informants out there. I only picked you because you are Sullustan, and you are loyal."

"Why should race come into play?"

"Because I only had one friend who wasn't, and I ended up scraping the paste that was left of him off an alley wall."

"Ouch. Forget I asked."

"No troubles here."

The two stood up and Albee pulled his lightsaber from across the room to him. He put it in a far corner of the room every time so he could practice his force abilities.

"Aren't we going down the stairs?" Solus asked, the door open as he was ready to leave, Albee on the other hand walking to the balcony.

"Well, I parked the car just low enough its technically legal and I may have done so just below the balcony. So hop in..." Albee ran to the barrier of the balcony and leapt off rather dramatically to the speeder below. Solus soon followed suit.


End file.
